


Silence Never Set You Free

by MadDub



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Animalistic, Drugs Made Them Do It, F/F, F/M, M/M, Marking, Petstuck, Possessive Behavior, Scent Marking, That was a real tag, This Is STUPID
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-17 12:26:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1387528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadDub/pseuds/MadDub
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Egbert is lonely after the death of his father.<br/>He hates how silent his house is without Dad, ironically hates the lack of Betty Crocker baking in the oven. This is what led him to decide to buy a fish. Nothing complicated, just your everyday run-of-the-mill fish.<br/>This is how he did not get his beloved fish, but an abused and angry troll instead. Damn Jade to Hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. That's Not a Fish

**Author's Note:**

> Before there is any confusion, let me just say that yes, I know. This was written pretty frickin' badly. Whatever. I no longer care.  
> I warned you.  
> Why am I so bad at titles? Someone slap a better title into me, please.

They had him trapped. Cornered like some kind of animal.

He was doomed, they all knew it, but he still kept his sickles up, fangs bared and eyes darting from figure to figure, furiously calculating how he should target first, who'd be the easiest to dispose of, how he'd go about slaying the others surrounding him. There were too many of them, there was no way he'd kill them all before they reached him—but he had to try. He couldn't surrender. Not now, not ever.

"Put your weapons down and place your hands above your head!" A deep voice boomed.

Karkat answered their command with an angry snarl, hackles raised and legs bent, ready to lunge at anyone who dared to move too close.

"I repeat, put your weapons down and place your hands above your head! If you don't, you can and will be subdued with force!"

Like these assholes were going to make it easy on him either way. No matter what he did at this point, he was well screwed over. They had already infiltrated the base, enslaved or slaughtered all of Karkat's companions. His reputation was tarnished, lies and gossip passed around to the point no one quite knew what was truth or myth anymore. The only possible good thing that could come out of this encounter would be for more people to realize he wasn't an aimless renegade set on killing—he was a fighter, and he'd go down fighting for his dreams if he couldn't obtain them.

Those surrounding him paused, probably waiting for him to give up, throw his weapons down. But he didn't.

Instead, he used their hesitation to dart for the closest person and chop his head clean from his shoulders, sending a geyser of blood up and many a cry of surprise as the others fumbled for their guns.

Vantas would be taken down eventually, this he knew, even as he danced between his foes, cutting and slicing and chopping them all down. To outsiders, it would appear he had the upper hand, that he was winning. And yes, he may have had the advantage, may have slaughtered many a human, but he knew this fight wouldn't end with him standing victorious. He'd be yet another body on the ground after this was over, and somehow, that spurred him on and made him all the angrier. He was going to **** these people up if he had to personally tear out every single one of his internal organs to do so.

When they did finally get him, it wasn't with a bullet. It was with a tranquilizer dart.

He only just had time to realize this meant they didn't plan to kill him—at least not immediately—which was somehow worse than actually dying, and meant this whole thing was just another point on the list of "Things Karkat Vantas ****ed Over Without Knowing How He Managed to Do It," before he crumbled to the ground, vision blurring, and then darkness was the only thing that stretched for miles.

 

~~~

 

John Egbert was pretty sure he needed a fish.

Fish were nice. They weren't noisy or got hair everywhere or eat all the food in the fridge, but were still good company. They floated around in a big ol' bowl of water and made bubbles and were pretty much just huge time killers and kind of nice to look at. A fish would be perfect for someone like John. He could use a good distraction these days.

It hadn't been so long ago that Dad's funeral had come to pass. He remembered the day clearly; the only day he'd allowed himself to wear black in four and a half months, the only day he'd allowed himself to tear up even a little over his father's death. Some strangers and distant family pointed out that it couldn't have been so bad; after all, Dad wasn't John's _real_ father. It wasn't like the man helped to _conceive_ John.

John tried not to be angry at those people, because he figured Dad wouldn't have wanted that and he understood that the other people just didn't get it, but it was hard. Whenever someone said stuff like that, all he really wanted to do was punch them right in their stupid face and tell them to screw off.

He didn't, though. Rose told him she was proud of his control. Dave told him he was on his way to "coolville," which was kind of ironic because "coolville" sounded like the very opposite of cool.

However, his control over his emotions was weak, and he wasn't about to deny it. His house felt lonely without his father, the normally heavy aromas of rising bread and sugary sweets absent, and leaving behind nothing but the smell of John. John didn't like the smell of John. It meant he couldn't smell Dad anymore, and for whatever reason, that broke his heart.

Luckily, Dad had taught John how to bake, and he still owned Nana's recipe book for pastries—the only problem was that John didn't like any of his family's cakes, and so had to pawn them off on other people.

At least it was good practice. As the last heir to the Betty Crocker line besides Jade, who wanted nothing to do with pastries aside from eating them, he was the one to inherit their family store, and so had to bake or cook everything himself. He didn't mind, either; not only did it keep him occupied six day a week for hours at a time, but it also gave him a job and a source of income, which was really great even though it was a bit small, since he was still only a senior in high school and had virtually no idea what he wanted to do with his life.

He was thinking he might just continue working the family shop. It was a nice, quaint little place, and since John liked working there, it could be just perfect. Imagine, him and a wife, baking and laughing and throwing icing at one another while the kids tried to steal a cupcake or two from the batch—all except for the youngest, who would hate Betty Crocker foods every bit as much as his father.

Okay, so maybe it was a bit of a daydream, but he really wouldn't mind it being a reality.

Man, he'd really drifted off from the point! The _point_ was he could really use a pet fish to distract him from his empty house. It wasn't so bad when he was working the shop or in school, but coming home was always a lonely, dreadful experience.

A fish might help. Yeah.

This is how John Egbert found himself in a pet store come Sunday, the only day Crocker's Goods wasn't open to the public.

It was a rank place, the scent of dogs and cats and bird crap clinging to the air and making his nose wrinkle as soon as he stepped inside. The noise, too, was a bit overwhelming at first, since he'd just drove over from his silent home, only to walk into a room bursting with so much noise and liveliness it gave him a headache.

"Welcome to Pet Palace!" a cheery girl behind the counter called, smiling brightly at him, "How can I help you today?"

"Uh . . ." Come on, Egbert, no stuttering! What would Dave say if he knew you were standing about, sputtering because you couldn't take a few house pet noises? "I'm just looking for a fish."

Smooth, dude. Real smooth.

But at least what he wanted was communicated, because with a flash of dazzling white teeth, the girl exclaimed, "Sure! Follow me and I'll show you to them!"

He trotted after her as she rounded the wall behind her counter, chattering about their awesome selection of awesome fish, though John only half-listened. It was only ten a.m., and he was really feeling it wear on him! The only reason he was up at the pet store so early was because he had a terrible time sleeping last night, continuously waking up until he decided screw it, he was going to go ahead and get that stupid damn fish pet he'd been wanting.

The cashier left him at a wall made entirely of fish tanks with various lighting. She wasn't kidding about the good selection—there were jellyfish, turtles, your common goldfish, catfish, even those funny fish that followed your finger if you moved it around in front of the glass! So cool!

He was still playing with those fish, giggling to himself in a totally manly way, when he felt his phone began buzzing in his pocket. Almost unconsciously, he pulled it out of his pocket and answered, still grinning as the little fishies followed his hand. "Hello?"

"John!" Jade squawked angrily, "Where are you?"

"Hey, don't yell at me! It's my day off! I don't have to work on Sundays, Jade, remember?"

"I'm not talking about work, John! We had a meeting today!"

John cringed. Shit. He'd all but forgotten that Jade had told him they had an Animal Protection meeting, or whatever the club was called. He was mostly in it because Jade, herself, had started the club, and as a good half-brother and friend, he tried supporting her by supporting the club she was so proud of. A club, he might add, that had grown exponentially since its opening only two years ago, and which had rescued many an animal from abusive homes and from the streets. It was really a good cause. And he felt like utter shit for forgetting about the inner circle's meeting today.

"Whoops," he squeaked sheepishly into the phone.

"Ugh! Sometimes I think you're turning into one of those old people who can't remember anything, you know that? Just hurry up and get here. We're waiting for you."

Without waiting for a reply, she hung up, leaving John standing with his mouth half open in the middle of a pet store, finger still in front of a fish tank. Well, it looked like he wasn't going to be buying a fish today, not if he didn't want to rush the purchase.

John felt no need to hurry his selection of a pet, so with a sigh, he left the store, apologizing to the woman behind the desk and promising to come back sometime later for a fish. All she did was smile and wish him a good day.

He may or may not have sped his way to the warehouse they held their meetings in, and may or may not have ran through the halls, only to burst dramatically into the conference room, hair sticking up every which-way and breathing heavily, and he may or may not have asked, wheezing, what he missed.

"Nice, Egderp," Dave commented, looking his up and down, the only indication of this being the slight tilt of his head. "Way to be a hella late."

"Shut up and fill me in," he gasped, slumping into the empty chair between Rose and Jade.

"I was just _saying_ ," Jade hissed, glaring at Dave as he opened his mouth for a witty retort. She didn't stop until he closed his mouth and held up his hands in surrender, only then continuing on with, "You guys might have already heard, but the government recently busted a fighting ring where they pitted trolls against one another."

They all nodded. Even John had heard about the fighting rings cropping up recently—they were terrible, terrible things that many a time forced whoever found those abused trolls to put them down like dogs, too violent and angry to be properly tamed or treated. It left many people angry, but what could they do? Trolls were stronger and much more violent than humans; if they couldn't calm the trolls, they risked their and others' lives. There weren't many good options when dealing with the other species.

"Well, the government recently found another one," Jade continued. John noticed everyone but Dirk's shoulders tensed a bit, "This particular group they were planning to put down with the others once they were located, on account of how much more violent this group was—not to mention they have a _psionic_ of all things—"

That was surprising. John had been so sure psionic trolls were nothing but a myth!

"—but fortunately for us, Dirk was able to pull some strings."

Everyone looked to the silent Strider, who pushed his anime shades further up the bridge of his nose, somehow looking cool as he did. How did he do that? John wanted to look cool in geeky things like anime shades! Life just wasn't fair sometimes.

"What was done with these trolls?" Rose questioned, frowning.

"Well . . . that's actually one of the main reasons I called this meeting . . ." Jade blushed sheepishly, "I couldn't ask the followers to do this, just because of how dangerous it is, and I wouldn't ask this of you guys either, but uh . . ."

"Spit it out, Harley," Dave said, raising a golden brow.

"Well . . . er, the deal was that if they didn't put down the trolls, we kind of have to find homes for them . . ."

"Oh my! Are you suggesting that _we_ take these hooligan trolls in?" Jake, Dirk's practically-engaged boyfriend—and Jade's relative in some way John didn't quite get—exclaimed.

"Maybe?" She answered, her voice ending in a squeak.

"How 're we shupposhed to take in a b—a bunch of trollsh out of nowhere?" Roxy asked, hiccuping. She was most likely drunk, if her slurred speech and flushed face were indicators of such a thing. Then again, Roxy was always drunk, so no one paid it much attention.

"I _did_ pick up some supplies and manuals on how to care for trolls," Jade responded a bit indignantly, "I wouldn't leave you guys to fend for yourselves without at least a _little_ something to help you out! And you guys don't have to take them in if you really don't want to, or if you can't for some reason. I was just hoping a few of you would . . . if you don't mind. I'll be taking two of them in, myself."

"How many are there?" Rose asked.

"They found twelve in all, which means if we all take in one or two, we can get them all off the streets."

Everyone fell silent, contemplating. Waiting for someone else to come forward and speak up. After a few beats of silence, Rose said, "I won't be able to take in more than one, if any. I already have a troll at home and would prefer not to come home every day to a house overrun by trolls."

"Okay, that can work! You have more money than most, so would you mind if I gave you one of the higher-maintenance ones?" Jade asked hopefully.

"Go ahead; it matters not to me."

"I'll take in two," Dave volunteered as well, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his seat. "But I want the psionic to be one of them. That shit is cool as all hell."

"Are you sure? Psionics can be a bit . . . dangerous." He sent Jade a pointed look, making everyone chuckle, "Then again, I guess you Striders thrive off danger, huh? Well, alright. Any requests for you second troll? Like, on behavior or looks or something?"

"Just give me the most ironic one you can."

"Can do. I hope," She glanced at everyone else. "Would anyone else mind taking in a troll or two?"

"I'll take in shome," Roxy announced, slamming an empty wine glass down on to the table top. "Jusht make shure they're nice to look at. Or hot. Or shomething."

"Oh . . . kay?" Jade replied a bit hesitantly. "I guess that settles it, then? I'll message some of my more trustworthy followers, then. I'm sure I could find a few people who would take in the last few—"

"I'll take one," John blurted, cutting her off.

The room fell strangely silent all of a sudden. John fidgeted uncomfortably as everyone turned to stare at him in stunned surprise, mouths open and eyes wide. One would have thought he had just volunteered to marry a male alien and have a plethora of hybrid babies or something.

"John . . ." Jade started, biting her lip.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Rose asked gently, "Not to offend you, but I know you've been struggling lately, and I'm not sure a wild troll would be a good idea for you at the current moment. Maybe you should wait and—"

"No," John interrupted, frowning at his female friends. "I mean it. I'll take in a troll. It's not like I really mind. The house is too quiet as it is, and besides, some of those trolls probably need it more than I do right now. A pet of some kind would be good for me anyhow."

"Dude, no offense—" Dave began, but John was having none of it.

"I even went browsing at Pet Palace today," he admitted, shrugging. "It'll be fine! Who knows, it might even be fun! And if things get too out of hand, I promise I'll call one of you guys and we'll figure something out."

"Well . . . alright," Jade gave in.

Everyone else remained silent, but John tried to ignore them. "So . . . we good?"

"Any requests on the troll?" Jade asked after a moment.

"Just give me the loudest one you can."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John tries not to let Dave into his head.  
> He fails.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is nothing I can say to redeem this chapter.  
> Nothing.  
> Except that I will try harder on the next one.

Jake and Dirk were the only ones who didn't take in a troll.

No one really blamed them; after all, Jake was constantly travelling, therefore was never home and had no time for a pet, and while Dirk kept up their apartment (or really, Dirk's apartment, legally Jake didn't have a home yet), he preferred to follow his boyfriend across the globe or go DJing the night away.

Everyone else was told they'd have their trolls readied and delivered in a week.

John took this time to Google the supplies he'd need, and hurried off to go fetch everything. Sopor slime, a funny little contraption called a "recuperacoon," some raw meat (apparently trolls had a taste for meat. It was actually kind of freaky, but John tried not to think on it too hard), a muzzle (oh gosh, he wouldn't really use this, right?), a specially-made collar for trolls that included a remote to shock them with in the case they became too violent, clothes (he didn't know what size to get, so he just grabbed the largest things he could), and lastly, a spare room. The room, of course, he already had covered, but he made sure to buy everything else, even if the muzzle and shock collar made him extremely uncomfortable.

Then again, his new troll buddy would probably need it, as Jade said they'd be violent from abuse, but still. The thought of shocking anything made him feel nauseous. Maybe he wasn't cut out to be an owner yet. Maybe he should call Jade and tell her to cancel the shipping. He could go back to his original plan of a pet fish and no one would think any worse of him.

He shook his head, crouched in his living room next to the bag of pet supplies he'd bought just the other day. No, he wouldn't go back on his word now. He'd already told Jade he'd help her; he wasn't about to chicken out now. She was his friend! And as the friendleader, he was required to always be the bestest palhoncho ever for all of his friends.

There was no backing out now.

Sighing, he stood up and walked, barefoot, into his kitchen to grab some snacks, wrinkling his nose at the package of raw beef sitting in the middle of his fridge. Ugh.

 

* * *

 

Karkat couldn't see thanks to the stupid damn cloth tied over his eyes, but he could smell the humans _everywhere_.

They stole his shirt away and bound his hands behind his back, forcing him on to his knees with a swift kick to the sensitive skin in the crook of his legs. He fought even though he knew he'd lose, snarling and biting any piece of flesh he could possibly reach, lunging for hands and scratching at anyone who walked up behind him.

The humans were yelling at him and each other, trying to muscle him down, and though he was stronger and angrier than them, they outnumbered him. Even when he fought and won against them, they just called in more and more people to tackle him until he was efficiently dog-piled, hissing and wiggling furiously under the hot bodies keeping him down. He couldn't make out what they were saying with everyone shouting and spewing useless shit at each other, but he didn't much care to hear their verbal garbage anyway.

He howled with all the rage within his body when they pricked his neck, didn't stop until his body grew heavy and his brain lulled, mouth still working to pour curses and growls at the unfortunate, even as he slumped to the floor with a heavy thud.

 

* * *

 

John was hanging out with Dave in the old Strider apartment (now formally owned by none other than Dave himself) a few days after he went out to buy his new troll's new supplies. They were just sitting around, chilling out with a few bottles of apple juice John was surprised his bro was actually sharing—though he certainly wasn't complaining—lazy with the heat of the day.

He was honestly startled when someone knocked on the door outside, not expecting for Dave to have visitors, and glancing over at the younger Strider, he realized that Dave probably hadn't been expecting anyone either, if the raised brow was any indication.

"Who would be stupid enough to make a trip down into the hottest part of town on the warmest day of the year?" Dave grumbled almost to himself, slamming his half-empty bottle of AJ down on the coffee table and pushing himself off his sagging couch to go get the door. John didn't bother getting up to follow; he just leaned back into his seat and cranned his neck to see around the wall, spying his best buddy at the open door signing something.

_Hope Dirk didn't do something that angered his political pals again,_ he thought idly to himself, though he doubted Dirk would make the same mistake twice. That guy was a _genius_ ; there was simply no way he'd slip more than once at anything, much less in life itself.

"Holy shit."

It was the closest to an exclamation from a Strider that John had ever heard. Immediately, his curiosity was peaked, but he still didn't leave the couch. Allow a bro his privacy. Let him wallow in the feels, and when he comes back, give him a pat on the back and ask what crawled up his skinny white butt and made a nest.

But Dave didn't come back. John watched with rapidly increasing understanding as Dave stepped aside and allowed some buff men carrying two huge, covered cages into the apartment, stopping only to ask where Dave wanted them to set the "packages" down. Strider beckoned them into one of the back rooms, and this time John _did_ follow, in awe as the men set the stuff down and handed his buddy a bag.

"What's this?" Dave questioned as John drifted towards one of the cages, fascinated by the sounds of deep snores and loud, sleepy breaths.

"Drugs," one of the men gruffed. "Keeps 'em peaceful. You'll need to give 'em both two shots a day in order to keep them by law, since you got 'em from a fighting ring."

Egbert glanced over to peek at his friend, who was holding a syringe full of a bright green substance between pale fingers. "I have to give them shots? I wasn't told about this. When the hell did that become a thing? How do you even expect me to give this to them? I mean, if I were them, I definitely wouldn't hold still so some hot blonde dude could give me a shot of unidentified green stuff."

The guy shrugged, "It's mandatory. Government people said so. Find a way to give them the drugs twice a day, or have them taken away and put down. Your choice."

Dave and John shared a grimace. Or, well, John grimaced and imagined Dave internally grimacing. Having the trolls taken away to be put down was completely out of the question, even if they turned out to be extremely hard to deal with. First of all, it wasn't _right_ by any means, and secondly, Jade would probably be really upset. And when Jade's not happy, no one's happy.

"Fine. Harley will so owe me for this," Dave said the last part under his breath, shoving the drugs back into the bag and placing them carelessly to the side, allowing them to drop to the carpeted floor with a loud rattling sound. He didn't seem too concerned if anything broke or spilled over, but John poked his head into the bag just to check.

All was well. Nothing broken or spilled yet.

The men filed out, closing the apartment door after them, but John was too busy messing around the cages to notice. He was really interested in seeing what the trolls looked like, never having had one himself, and only ever catching glimpses of them on TV or in pictures on Rose's phone.

"Yo, Egderp," Dave called, tearing his attention away from the louder troll's cage.

"Hmm?"

"Quit messing with the noobies. Let them rest for one frickin' second, will ya? I don't want you to wake them up and make them all hyper active."

"Aw, you just don't want to start cleaning up after them yet, do you?"

"Why would I? Egbert, have you ever known me to have a pet before this? The things I do for the ladies, man. Never say that Dave Strider didn't go over and beyond expectations, and all for the chicks." Dave shook his head, hands sliding into his pockets in a typical cool kid pose.

"Ew! You volunteered so you could date Jade?" John asked, wrinkling his nose.

"Of course not. We're, like, strife partners for life. That would never work in a healthy relationship."

"Yeah, right. Last time I checked, Jade decided she was against striving unless it was to save a life."

"Saves my life."

John rolled his eyes and followed his friend back into the living room, bickering and poking fun at each other the entire way. Though he giggled and teased as cheerfully as possible, his mind was a million miles away. If Dave already had his trolls delivered, then that meant John would receive his soon, right? He assumed they were getting all the trolls from the same place, so he could expect his new little guy in the next day or so, right?

Just thinking about it was making him excited and really, really nervous. What if he screwed up and it ran away? What if it didn't like him? Oh! Or what if they had one of those sweet master-dog relationships where they'd be uncharacteristically loyal to only each other and would be, like, the bestest of pairs? That would be so awesome.

He briefly wondered if those sort of relationships were even possible. Maybe he should ask Jade; she'd probably know. She used to have a really nice dog.

Dave raised his eyebrow at John, sprawled out across the couch across from him, making sure to take up the whole loveseat. "You better chill out, dude. Trolls can smell fear."

"What? No they can't!"

"Sure they can. Don't you remember how Jade told us all to be calm and cool around these things? There was a reason for that. And that reason was because they can sense your fear." Great, he was wearing that typical nonsense-Strider mask that made it incredibly easy to believe anything he said. John's prankster gambit had suffered traumatic damage thanks to that mask.

"You are so full of shit." He grumbled, scowling at the other.

"Nope. I'm one-hundred percent clean. If you don't believe me, go hang around one of those freakish things and internally freak. You'll see what I mean."

Don't fall for it. You know him, John; you know that he likes to mess with your head. Don't let him in, don't do it. There is no way he's telling the truth. Jade or Rose would have told you if trolls could "smell" fear or whatever Dave is suggesting. Nope. No way that he is being honest here.

"Sure, whatever," John replied with a good eye roll. He swiped his phone from the coffee table and began walking to the door, "I'm heading home before you can infect me with your _lies_. Bye, Dave!"

"So long, Egbert." That son of a biscuit didn't even wave as you left. Jerk.

John muttered profanities about Dave the entire walk home, kicking at pebbles and pouting slightly. He was not going to let Dave trick him again! It was happening!

Despite his words, John was relieved to arrive home and find no indication that his new troll had been dropped off yet. But it wasn't because he was afraid! He just, you know, wasn't entirely mentally prepared yet. Not that he needed to be! It wasn't like he felt like he needed to rearrange everything in his house and hide anything that could constitute as a weapon within easy reach of himself but away from foreign eyes.

Nope, he wasn't anxious in the least. Not even a little.

He was a man. Men weren't scared of anything!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has money troubles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look, I'm actually updating again! Isn't THAT a surprise!  
> But in my defense, I actually would have posted a lot sooner had my Internet not been out for a full forty-eight plus some hours. So there.  
> Nah, just kidding. I still had to edit the crap out of this chapter. I'm going to go ahead and apologize for the many mistakes this chapter probably contains, because I had to edit this one a LOT more than I'm used to. So if this is really bad, well, I warned you.  
> Also, I'm sorry about how short these past two chapters have been. I'm not sure why I'm being so . . . short, I guess? Eh, whatever.

John Egbert was not a nervous mess about his soon-to-arrive troll.

He wasn't. Anyone who told you different was definitely lying, because John was totally cool about the whole thing. There was nothing wrong here. Nothing. Just because he screamed a little when someone rang his doorbell did _not_ mean he was scared.

"John? Are you okay?" A familiar voice called from the other side of the door, making him both laugh and sigh in relief.

"Oh, yeah! Sorry Jade!" He chuckled opening the door to find her staring at him in obvious concern. "I—the doorbell startled me a little is all. What's up? Usually you message me before coming over."

He stepped aside to allow her in and shut the door behind her, following Jade into his living room. She plopped down on one of the couches, hands clasped in her lap as she looked back up at him. "I was just coming over to check with you that everything is okay. It seems Dave and Rose were given their trolls early, so I wanted to make sure you were prepared in case the delivery guys dropped in on you."

Not mentally. "Of course! Who do you take me for, anyway? I already have all the stuff he or she will need!"

"And you did your research? Read the email Dirk sent out?"

Dirk emails? When did that become a thing? "Uh . . . well, I read some stuff online, but I didn't read any email from Dirk . . ."

"You should. It has really important information about our trolls!" She must have seen him digging through his pocket for his phone, because she waved at him to stop, "But you can do that later. You can't just ignore a guest like that, you know!"

"Whoops. Sorry, Jade," he sheepishly replied, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

She giggled, so he assumed she wasn't too offended, however she sobered up quickly. "Make sure you know what you're doing, John. I'm serious. Trolls are naturally very dangerous, especially this batch."

"I know, I know. Trust me, I've got this!" John was surprised at how confident he sounded, even as he internally yelled, _Oh my gosh, what have you_ done _? This is it. You're dead._

"Well, alright." She still sounded a bit worried, but he wasn't sure what to do to make her feel any better. Jade stood from her spot on the couch and stretched out her arms, pausing suddenly with a thoughtful expression. "So you know about the troll's cycles, right? Their eating and sleeping habits, the amount of space they need, etcetera etcetera?"

He had never heard about any "cycles" when he was browsing the Internet for information, but he decided he could always Google it again once she left. "Yes, Mom."

That earned him a punch in the arm and a chortle, but all he did was laugh in return.

"Hmph. Fine, since apparently you know what you're doing, I'm going. See you tomorrow," she said, lunging forward to hug him before pulling away and bouncing towards the door.

"Aw, leaving so soon?" John whined from behind her.

"I'll have you know that I have things to do, Mister! Rose wants me to come over so I can take a look at her trolls."

"What? Why? Is there something wrong with them?"

"I don't know, I haven't gone over to look at them yet. She told me Kanaya wasn't getting along so well with the new troll, but she doesn't seem to think it's anything to do with being territorial. I'm not really sure what that means, but if Rose is saying they don't get along, there has probably been an assassination attempt." Jade said, glancing back over at John over her slim shoulder.

"Probably," he agreed, and then grinned. "Well, bye then!"

"Bye!" And just like that, she was gone.

 

* * *

 

Jade didn't get to see John the next day, because John stayed home.

It was a Monday, so he really should have gone to school—Algebra III was a huge bitch to him, so he needed to be in class as much as he could—but he was worried he might miss the delivery people if he was gone for too long. Never mind that it still hadn't been a week since Jade communicated to whoever held the trolls that they'd take them in; after all, Rose and Dave had their trolls delivered early, so John might have similar luck.

So he stayed home, and he fretted over what he'd do with a troll. Then he began to clean to keep his mind off worrying, and didn't stop until the house was practically sparkling. Then he began to cook everything he had the ingredients for until his pantry was almost empty. Then he sat himself down and did all of his homework. He couldn't keep focused on his Xbox games, so he then began texting Dave, knowing the youngest Strider wouldn't care whether it was against the rules to text during school hours.

That is, until John figured out that Dave was actually at his work place, at which point he made Dave promise he'd go back to work and then promptly stopped texting the other.

With nothing left to do, John sat on the couch and continued to worry. What if the troll was so injured that it wouldn't want to be the bestest of pairs with him? What if it tried to actually physically harm him? He didn't like physical harming. Or any sort of harming, now that he thinks about it. What if it ruined the furniture and walls to the point where it wasn't safe to leave him or her alone at home? He couldn't just stop going to school or work to look after a pet! And oh, gosh, how was he supposed to give this thing _shots_? If Dave had to, he was positive he was going to have to, but the very idea of sticking a needle through any sort of skin made him feel queasy and shaky.

When an hour more of anxiously-tugging at his hair passed by without anyone coming to his door, John began to doubt that he'd have his troll delivered today. After everything he'd done up to that point, it was already three O'clock, meaning school would end in five minutes and he'd need to start towards his shop if he didn't want to be forced to eat plain Nutella for the next week—again.

What was he thinking anyways, buying a troll? Thankfully, Dad had left him enough money to pay his bills for the next year (though the price of the recuperacoon had pushed it back to only three months), the house was mostly paid off, but because he was the only one working the store, he barely made enough money to pay the mortgage _and_ for food. Not to mention his clientele had been decreasing at an alarming rate due to how infrequently he could open shop.

There was no _way_ he'd be able to eat three meals everyday while trying to take care of a troll. It was impossible.

His phone alarm went off, signaling that he needed to start heading to his work place, and so with a mournful sigh he stood and grabbed his keys, vaguely remembering that he still hadn't paid this month's auto insurance before leaving the house.

Goodness, he should have just forced himself to go to school. At least he wouldn't have had nearly as much time to mope and worry about his own stupid decisions.

Okay, so that wasn't necessarily true, but it would be over completely different stupid decisions.

He internally winced when he found some customers milling about outside his closed store, and quickly went to amend it, settling into his happy, polite persona with a thoughtless ease he had acquired through many years of running registers. Luckily, tonight's business seemed to be a bit busier than normal, as if to counteract his negative mood from before, and he thanked his lucky stars for it.

By the time he was closing shop, night had well and truly descended, stars poking out from behind a thick expanse of velvety blackness, the street outside quieter and lonelier than it had been only hours before.

John was covered in a few layers of flour and icing, but his car wasn't exactly new and his seats were already stained to the point that he barely remembered to put down the towel he stored in his door before driving back home, exhausted. It probably wasn't the healthiest thing for a high school student to work so late into the night, but he needed to eat, so his grades would just have to deal with it. At least he had Rose to help explain the harder stuff to him after class.

When he pulled up into his driveway, he was surprised to find two burly men leaning against his porch railing with a covered cube-shape between them. The men looked tired and grumpy, so John could guess fairly easily that they had been waiting for him for a while now.

"Oh crap!" he cried, hopping out of his car and stumbling up to the front porch. "I'm so sorry; I didn't realize you would come so early! Here, just let me—" He cut himself off, making quick work of unlocking the door and holding it wide while the men carried the covered object into the house.

He was able to convince them to carry it up the stairs and into the guest room, where they practically dropped it before shoving a bag of shots into his chest. John only gave the contents a brief glance to confirm it was the same stuff they gave Dave before he looked back up at the men, who were grumbling. One of them immediately veered back towards the door and left, his footsteps loud against the stairs. The other, however, stayed just long enough to grunt at John to give the troll a shot twice a day, warning him that this particular little guy was easy to set off, and told him to up the dose as he thought necessary.

John could only stare at him with wide eyes, thinking, _Wait, I might have to give him more than_ two _shots? How the heck am I supposed to give him_ one _?_ However, before he could attempt to ask, the delivery guy disappeared out the door, stormed down the stairs, and if the slam of a door was any indicator, left the house.

Well then.

He carefully set the back down by the wall, scrubbing a hand over his face and determining he could always ask Rose or Dave how they were able to convince the trolls to take their shots tomorrow.

Still, he was curious, and with no Dave to stop him, he crouched next to the covered cage, flicking the blanket covering it back just enough to peek through thin bars. Inside, a humanoid slept with its body slumped against one of the sides of the cage, its flesh a tough, pale gray, its hair messy and dark. Two horns the color of candy corn poked out of its mane, short but cute. Its—his? It looked like a male—hands twitched, bringing John's attention to the pale claws attached to each finger, long and sharp enough to rip into a human with ease.

Not to mention the _fangs_. Holy crap, those weren't the knock-off vamp canines you see at cosplay events, those were like tightly fit together _shark_ teeth! Though he/it was sleeping, its upper teeth jutted out just enough over its/his bottom lip for John to have a good view, and _woah_ , what a view.

It also wasn't wearing a shirt for whatever reason, though it had on black pants, so its torso and arms were completely exposed, muscles defined and nipples and belly button strangely absent. Holy freaking moly, this thing really was a predator. It had more muscles than John or Dave did! How in the world was he supposed to show dominance to something that came naturally equipped with more ways to fight than any human could?

Gulping, suddenly unsure once more about his choice of "pet" (if you could call something that looked like it could kill you if you so much as hugged it a pet), he sat back on his heels, letting the cover fall back into place again.

Maybe he could push this all back and worry about it more in the morning. Yeah, that sounded like a good plan.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which John Egbert impresses all with his ability to drive in various conditions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha ha, yes! Update, update for all! Woo!  
> Though I'm sick so the end of this might suck. Oh well. At least I got it up, right? Right? :D

John Egbert woke up to the bruised face of the dawn, his phone vibrating on his chest, and exhaustion tugging hard at his brain, attempting to coax him back into the dark peace of sleep. Tempting though it was—extremely tempting, so much so. Gosh, his skull felt like it was being split in two he was so tired—he knew it wasn't an option. Or at the very least, not a _good_ option.

With a low groan, he scooped his phone off his chest, peering at the digital numbers flashing across its screen. 6:30 a.m. Yeah, that was about the time he needed to get up and get ready for school.

Feeling distinctly like death, he unlocked his phone and shut off his alarm before tossing it back onto the bed and forcing himself to sit up. It was still dark in his room, the fall season readying itself to hand the city over to the cool kiss of winter, but it only served to make it harder for John to drag himself out of bed.

Since he showered last night, he didn't bother with it this morning, and simply slipped into a pair of jeans and a _Ghostbusters_ T-shirt before staggering to his bathroom.

The light blinded him for the first few seconds, ambushing his poor retinas until he was leaning against the wall, blinking and squinting and feeling even more unwilling to leave the sanctity of his house for high school. Ugh. Why couldn't he be older and graduated already?

From there, his body was on autopilot. His hands brushed his teeth, his fingers combed through his hair, his legs carried him down to the kitchen and worked with his skilled arms to slather jam onto a piece of toast. He didn't think about anything else as he grabbed his backpack and keys; he didn't think about the bills he still needed to pay, the stacks of homework he would probably have due to missing yesterday, the troll that was still supposed to be sleeping upstairs, or the creaking groans of the floorboards in the guest room. No, John Egbert didn't think of any one of these numerous things as he left his house for school, which was a blessing for now but a terrible curse for later.

Instead, John focused on reaching his school without getting into a wreck, an accomplishment which wasn't as easy as one might think when the driver was still a quarter asleep.

However, despite the odds, he was proud to say he parked his car and made his way into the school building unscathed! He was so talented. Sometimes he even impressed himself with how awesome he was. Who else could drive when super duper exhausted and live to tell the tale? Probably everyone in America, _but_ it was still a wonderful feat and John was content to take it as it was.

He found his friends chatting by their lockers, Dave leaning back against them as Jade and Rose talked to and around him. John waved and called out to grab their attention, beaming at them through his exhaustion. "Hi guys!"

"Well if it isn't the delinquent," Dave called back, crossing his arms over his chest. "I heard you were skipping school, John. Care to explain yourself?"

John glanced around quickly, giggling nervously when he didn't see any teachers. Whew. "Uh, yeah. I guess it was kind of stupid. I was just really worried that my troll would be delivered without me there, so I stayed home." Speaking of trolls . . . crap! He totally forgot to check on the deadly little guy this morning! Crap, crap, crap! There was no way he would have time to check back before he had to head off to work! Gosh, he really hoped the troll would just sleep through the day. Please, please just let it/him/her sleep!

"Likely story, Egderp. Likely story. I'll let it slide this time but pull a stunt like this again and I'm grounding you."

"Shut up, Dave! You're not my dad," John scowled.

"Show me the blood tests and then I'll buy that."

"Okay, okay!" Jade cut in between them, laughing. Looking over, John saw that Rose, too, was chuckling behind her hand, violet eyes lit up with humor. "Jeez, I didn't realize how much I would miss you two interacting after a whole day without!"

"Then why are you interrupting? If you enjoyed it so much, sit back and watch the show." Dave responded with a raised eyebrow.

"Not this time. John looks like he's going to fall over any second, and I doubt you arguing with him is going to help with that! Right, John?" she questioned, looking over at him with a big grin. He couldn't tell if she was kidding or not, but he nodded anyway.

He was a man, after all. Men could admit to weakness.

The bell signaling the start of school shrieked overhead, and the group all said their goodbyes before heading to their separate classes: Rose to Psychology, Jade to Physics, Dave to AP Music Theory, and John to Biology.

There was something John liked about Biology. It wasn't the students or classmates, as they were all loud and obnoxious and whiny, and it was probably not the teacher, who was only okay as far as instructing went. He wasn't really sure what it was that attracted him to the subject; maybe it was the way it explained things, the way it made functions seem less weird and more scientific and logical, maybe it was the obliteration of childish fears and falsehoods and the establishment of reason and expectancy. He didn't know, exactly, but he enjoyed learning it and pouring through the Biology textbook. John even considered going into Biology himself someday, though college during his lifetime was an "if" at best and a certain "not going to happen" immediately after he graduates at worst.

The rest of the day passed as school typically does: agonizingly slow, boring, and with a few frightening wake-up calls in the middle or end of a few classes. This equaled another day of detention (and it probably wasn't good for him to be so familiar with the routine of after school detentions by now, but what else could he do?), which meant there was no WAY he was getting home before he had to drive off to work. In fact, the only positive to detention was he was forced to have an hour's worth of time in which he could get all of his makeup work out of the way.

It was four by the time he was released, and he ended up hurrying to his workplace, where there was once again a few people waiting outside for him to open shop (crap!) and who were not happy to be standing around while he fumbled with the locks on the doors to the bakery.

From there, the hours blurred into a line of flour, scowly faces, and dough. John didn't have any time to think, much less worry over trolls and homework and bills, which was kind of nice in a "oh my gosh, why can't I just be lazy?" sort of way. Unfortunately, that only lasted about an hour into his work, when the customers ceased coming into his store and left him to stew in his thoughts at the counter, chin propped in his hand as he stared into the night outside of his shop's windows.

It was dark outside, but John could only see a single, thin bar of black sky against the backdrop of shops lining the street, not enough to give him a pretty view but enough to determine what general time of day it was. He stared at that strip of sky, mind wandering over to his troll.

What was it doing right now anyway? Was he (John was pretty sure it was a he, so that was what he was going to refer to it as) staring out through the bars in his cage, bored out of his mind? Was he still sleeping? Was he—crap—starving since John forgot to feed him this morning? Did the troll miss his friends, assuming he had any? Was he scared, just waiting to be put into another ring and made to fight to the death?

Well, that last one wouldn't be happening ever again. John would make sure of that, at the very least.

Unfortunately, he didn't have many customers that night, so he closed shop a bit earlier than he usually did, though he was covered in no less flour than was typical, and he drove on home, gripping his steering wheel a bit too tightly.

The lights in the house were all off, which should have been a good thing, but only served to make John shudder and paranoid. It was just so . . . _creepy_ with the house's windows gaping and dark. Logically, it should make him slightly more reassured that the troll was still in his cage, but instead it made him anxious that he would be hiding in the house, waiting to ambush the human.

_I'm being an idiot._ He thought firmly to himself. _If Rose or Jade were here, they'd probably tell me so, too._

Taking a deep breath and reminding himself that darkness didn't mean anything in this context, he forced himself to shut off the engine and get out of his car. The house loomed over him in the night, crickets singing around his yard, the only witnesses that would be around should something go wrong.

_Stop that! You're acting stupid!_ His conscious chastised. Believe it or not, it sounded strangely similar to Jade. _Go get your butt inside right now, mister! Quickly, before I mentally smack you!_

Another deep breath, and he forced himself to walk up to his porch, push his house key into the lock, and turn it until it clicked open. John paused, breath held and waiting, but no noise erupted from the other side of the door, and no force suddenly collided with the wood and attempted to claw its way out to get him. Maybe he really was being stupid.

More confident in his safety, he opened the front door and let himself in, turning on the living room light so he could see. No angry trolls, nor any other sort of harmful intruder. John was in the clear.

With a relieved sigh and a laugh, he shook his head at himself. See? There was nothing wrong. He was safe, his house was safe, and his troll was most likely still sleeping upstairs. All was well with the world, thank goodness. John was free to shower without the fear of a foreign creature tearing into his vulnerable skin.

Or at least, that's what he thought as he bounded up the stairs two at a time, tired and covered in flower as he was. Because it had been the only light switch he'd been nearby, only the living room lights were on, leaving the whole second floor and kitchen swathed in pitch and shadow, obscuring John's view. Which, considering he only got a few steps into the second-floor hallway before he heard a nauseatingly threatening growl, was not a good thing.

He froze instantly, heart jumping up into his throat. Through the pulsing beats, he heard another, lower growl, and nails scraping over wood.

Oh crap. Oh crap. Oh crap crap crap _crapcrapohSWEETBETTYCROCKERIT’SCOMINGCLOSER_ —

John didn't spare another second for observation or thought; with his fight-or-flight instincts screaming, he turned tail and fled back down the stairs, terror igniting through his very bones when he heard another _tearing after him oh gosh_.

The front door was right there, closed and locked but right freaking _there_ , he just had to get to it to leave the house and jump into his car. Then he'd be safe; he'd drive away, maybe to Rose or Dave's house, it didn't really matter. He'd drive away, stay the night, and be safe until he could figure out what to do. Perfect plan.

Only he never made it that far.

He hit the ground floor and sprinted towards the front door, cutting diagonally across the living room, but right as he hit the very center of the room something heavy and hard collided with his back, forcing the air from his lungs and sending him face-planting into the carpet. A snarl sounded above him, but he didn't have time to properly react before claws were digging in to his shoulder blades and dragging through the fabric of his shirt and his top layer of skin, splitting him open for the world to see. It hurt, it hurt like fire and knives and a knife on _fire_ , drawing a gasp from his mouth and sending his fingers into a spasming frenzy against the ground.

"Get off!" John wheezed, so panicked that he could barely speak, let alone yell.

The troll pinning him to the floor made another intimidating noise, a series of clicks and rumbles that raised the hair on the back of his neck. Oh man was he bleeding? He was totally bleeding. The troll made him bleed. The troll was violent and was attacking and made him bleed. Okay, that was very not okay.

Another clawed swipe down his back left another hot stripe and furious, shrieking nerves and a lot of pain, and maybe this time John screamed, he wasn't really sure, he only knew that his elbow suddenly came up nice and sharp and hit the troll, which made a weird noise as it fell to one side, successfully unpinning him. Taking advantage of the moment, John pushed himself to his feet and glanced between the front door and the staircase before taking off for the stairs, a vague bit of plan revealing itself to his frightened brain as he pounded up the steps, the troll below only remaining so for another moment before it was suddenly thundering after him.

He had to get to the bag. He had to get to it. Things would be okay if he could just find that stupid little bag.

As soon as he reached the upper floor, he ran for the guest room, barely sparing a second to note how the door was now a mess of splinters across the floor as he flipped the light switch, desperately looking around for the black bag the delivery guys had given him yesterday.

A screech suitable for war ripped through the house just as John spotted the bag. He didn't waste any time, just lunged for it and began digging through its contents, fear making his fingers clumsy.

The troll entered the room then, eyes glowing in the dimness, but John could barely make out anything else about it. It sauntered into the room slowly, eyes lowering as if it were crouching, getting ready to pounce him like—like a big predator getting ready to catch its prey. Gosh, that was a terrible analogy. Thanks a lot, brain. Now he was even more terrified of this stupid creature than he had been before.

Just as he wrapped his hand around a shot—success!—it paused in front of him, as if readying itself for the kill. John didn't give it the chance; as soon as he had the shot, he threw the bag to one side and launched himself at the troll, shot held out and ready. The troll snarled at him, one set of claws coming up to slice through his flour-stained shirt, the other brushing across the back of his head—oh good golly gosh please no—but John was faster. He stabbed the needle into the troll's back to inject the drugs into its tough body.

Unfortunately, like most drugs, this stuff didn't do like it did on TV and act immediately. No, the troll had time to shriek into his ear and drag claws down his ribs and yank the hair on the back of his head, enraged at John's assault.

He cried out, trying to squirm away, pushing at its arms and chest, but it wouldn't let go. His heart rate spiked in the unholy horror that rose up, because oh my gosh it wasn't going to let go. It was actually holding him here, all sharp claws raking at his skin and glinting fangs, and it was very possible that it was going to rip him to _pieces_ in his own home—

But it didn't. It tore another five lines down his chest before its grip went slack, allowing Egbert to pull away with a loud, panting breath, staring at the troll as it swayed and growled, glowering at him in the darkness. It attempted to stalk closer again, obviously agitated at itself for letting go, but it tripped and fell to the floor, where it snarled quieter and quieter until its noises stopped entirely.

John waited a few minutes, gulping in sweet, sweet oxygen, hands held up to his bleeding chest. It didn't move any more though, and after a few more minutes, it began to snore.

Okay. Okay. So it was most likely asleep now. Okay, good. Awesome.

He checked just to make sure, inching closer and cautiously poking it with his shoe. It didn't move or make any sound other than a loud snore.

Perfect. It was asleep, it shouldn't suffocate if its angle was anything to go by, John's chest was bleeding and his back was in so much pain he was surprised he could still stand, and everything was A-okay. Yes. Alright. Now he should probably drive himself to Rose's house for medical aid if he didn't want to possibly bleed out in his own home.

Now, John never did remember how exactly he got to Rose's house, because one minute he was in the guest room with the snoring troll, thinking about how he needed to find Rose, and the next he was in his car, covered in blood, and sitting in the Lalonde driveway blinking and dizzy. He does know, however, that he never made it inside on his own two feet, because he distinctly remembered resting his cheek on the steering wheel and closing his eyes right before he passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone confused by Karkat's actions: please understand that right now, Karkat is extremely animalistic (the next chapter will explain why don't worry your little head over it). So yeah, he's confused, hungry (as mentioned earlier), and probably a bit scared. He's going to lash out and try to kill anything and everything; it's what frightened predators do.
> 
> So yeah. Explanation over.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John doesn't really like the hospital very much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good gosh, this chapter killed me. I don't like it, nope, not at all. I had to use the word "troll" waaay too many times for my own taste, since John still didn't know Karkat's real name, and I just . . . bleh. I don't really proof read, okay? And then this is also really kind of short. So this chapter probably stinks. It was pretty difficult to write too, though I'm not entirely sure why.  
> But hey, I updated, right? So woohoo!

Something wasn't quite right.

He couldn't put his finger on it, but he knew, instinctively, that he was not in his bedroom. Or at the very least, not in his bed.

His torso was burning, both front and back, though he noted with a distantness reserved for serious situations that his front hurt a little bit worse, and he seemed to be laid out on his stomach. John never slept on his stomach. Something was really, really wrong here.

Where was he?

As he woke up further, stings and aches throughout his body began to blur into one long, miserable feeling of pain. His wrist felt uncomfortable, the blanket covering him was too thin, he was cold enough to be shivering, and he thought he could hear a faint beeping noise. From all this he gathered that no, he was definitely not anywhere near the Egbert residence, but golly did he wish he wasn't in this uncomfortable place, wherever it might be.

Forcing his eye lids open, he blinked at the sudden onslaught of light attacking his poor pupils, the world around him an incomprehensible smudge of pale colors and fuzz. For a minute, he was really confused as to what he was looking at, but it didn't take him long to realize that of course he didn't have his glasses. Those would be very helpful around now, thank you very much. Unfortunately, he wasn't sure where his glasses would be, and feeling beside the bed he was in (because he could determine that yes, this was an extremely uncomfortable sort of bed), he discovered no end tables or nightstands that might hold his spectacles for him.

Hmm. That wasn't good. Maybe they fell off his face while he was sleeping?

John frowned and patted the bedding around him carefully, fingers seeking the familiar outline slowly but carefully. Er, let's see here . . . aha! Right on the pillow!

The world around him instantly became crystal-clear and sharp-edged once the glasses were aligned with his eyes, and blinking, he took advantage of his regained sight to look around himself—and promptly regretted it.

He was in a hospital.

As in where patients were treated . . . and given huge medical bills. Shit.

The sound of a door opening creaked directly behind him, and he jerked in surprise and winced as his nerves screamed in retaliation of the movement, setting his poor front on fire, the physical contact between his skin and the bed not helping in the least. Something tugged slightly on his wrist when he jumped, too, and when he braved a glance down at his hand, he had to look away again quickly at the sight of an IV stuck into the back of his hand. Shiiiiiit.

"John?" A familiar voice called, paired with the lovely sound of high heels clicking against tile.

"Rose?" He called back, carefully craning his head around to give his friend a bug-eyed, slack-jawed look. And then saw the two others hurrying behind her. "Jade? Dave? What's going on? What are you guys doing here?"

Jade's face instantly went from relieved and happy to red and angry. She strode up to his bed and whacked him hard on the back of the head, earning a surprised noise of protest from everyone else in the room. "Rose found you in her driveway bleeding out in your car, you stupid idiot! We thought you were dead—or—or dying! What the hell were you doing unconscious in her driveway at _three in the morning?_ "

Woah. Did all of that really happen? Shouldn't John remember something like that?

"What?" He voiced smartly, staring up at Jade's towering, furious form, dazed. "But . . . that doesn't make any sense, Jade. I went home last night after work."

. . . And then was attacked by a— _shit shit shit!_ He totally forgot about the troll, oh fuck, he was probably roaming his house _right now_ , free from its cage and doing who-knows-what to John's poor, defenseless house. Not to mention he had to be starving out of his mind; after all, it had been at least a full twenty-four hours, probably more, since he last ate. Hungry trolls were probably even more dangerous than regular ones, knowing John's luck. Ugh. How was he supposed to deal with an aggravated, hungry predator roaming through his house? He barely escaped the guy alive last night!

"Do you really not remember what happened to you?" Rose asked, striding further into the room with a frown marring her beautiful features. "I didn't think you had a concussion."

"Yeah—no, uh, I don't think so," John replied, moving to touch the back of his head— _ouch!_ —and then immediately giving up when the effort sent screaming pain along his shoulders and back. "It doesn't really hurt or anything . . ." He wondered if he should tell them about the troll.

On one hand, he was honestly not sure if he could contain the angry little guy by himself when he had to go back home. In fact, John might not make it out alive a second time should the two have another face-off.

Unfortunately, if John _did_ tell his friends about the troll's freak-out, they would most likely have him sent away and maybe put down. After all, they were the trolls' last line of defense against the government, and if they couldn't do it . . . no one would. Though he hurt and his monthly bills had just skyrocketed, he wasn't sure he could stand aside and let his troll-pet be put down for its rough behavior. Sure, it had nearly killed him, but that was only because the troll didn't know any better. The little guy had been part of a fighting ring for Pete's sake!

He didn't want his friends looking down on him or taking the troll away. Not only was there John's unwillingness to let his pet die, but Jade would be absolutely _crushed_. So much so that John doubted he'd be able to ever look her in the eyes again.

Okay, so that pretty much spelled out his decision for him.

A hand patted the top of his head, and turning his head, he found himself looking at none other than Dave Strider, poker face in place and large hand resting atop of John's dark head. "You okay, Egderp? You look pretty beat up."

That was unexpected, coming from Dave. Usually Striders weren't the ones so much asking how someone felt as much as asking who did it so they could beat the crap out of the culprit. Still, it was nice to be asked, and John let himself grin up at his bro as reassuringly as he could. "I'm fine, Dave! I'm still alive, aren't I?"

Instead of looking relieved, Dave frowned, brows knitting together. "What or who did this to you? These are some serious injuries, John. We're talking serious like the hospital may keep you for a few days serious."

No! They couldn't do that! What if John's troll starved to death? He couldn't ask any of his friends to feed him without the risk of one of them getting hurt, and even if they didn't, they'd figure out _really_ quickly that the troll was no longer confined to a cage . . . and possibly that the cage had been busted open by a certain someone.

"I—I told you, I don't remember!" He sputtered, panic making his thoughts slippery. "Ease up, will you?"

"Sorry, man. Didn't mean to get up in your metaphorical face," Dave took his hand off the top of John's head and shoved it into his pocket, looking like a model for cool kids everywhere to gawk and admire. Striders were way too good-looking to be fair, but then again, the same thing pretty much went for the Lalondes as well.

It was one of the reasons Jade and John had been able to bond so well, to be perfectly honest.

"Are they really going to make me stay here?" He inquired, slowly looking at each of his friends beseechingly.

"I'm afraid so," Rose answered, Jade nodding solemnly next to her. "None of us are positive yet, obviously, but your wounds—"

"But I have things I need to do at home! Can't they just, like, patch me up, give me some pain killers, and send me on my way?"

"That probably wouldn't be a very good idea," Dave commented.

"If you're worried about your troll, you should stop. It's not like we're going to sit back and let the poor guy or girl fall into neglect while you’re gone!" Jade chided, wagging a finger at you with a strangely serious look in her eyes. John wasn't used to seeing Harley look so . . . well, serious. It kind of freaked him out, and what she was suggesting only made him panic more. How was he supposed to keep them all away from his house?

"None of you have my house keys!" He blurted.

Dave snorted. "We know where you keep your spare, Egderp. We've only known you for, what? Seven years?"

"Something like that," Rose agreed, nodding. "In any case, I assure you it will be no problem. One of us can stop by in the morning to feed him breakfast and after school to feed him dinner, and perhaps we could convince Dirk or Jake to go over at lunch time as well. I'm sure they wouldn't be opposed to it, should they have nothing else going on."

Gah! Curse them for being awesome friends! "But—but—he's sick! My troll, the one that was delivered yesterday, he's _super_ sick. Like the sickest ever, and. I don't want you guys catching any diseases or anything."

John had just started to mentally pat himself on the back for thinking of such a good excuse in only a few seconds, but from the looks on everyone else's faces, he realized that it might not have been quite as genius as he thought. All of his three friends were regarding him with varying states of suspicion, even Dave, whose expression was always impossible to read had his arms crossed and a pale eyebrow raised questioningly.

Crap. He really wasn't going to get out of telling them, was he?

"John," Rose started, her voice calm. Soothing, like what she used on the people she suspected harbored very personal bad news. "Is there something you would like to tell us?"

Oh yeah, he definitely wasn't going to get out of this one.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can John please return Dave to the Best Friend Factory? He's pretty sure this package is broken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UUUUUUUUPPPPPDDDDDAAAAAATTTTTEEEEEE!
> 
> Whew. Dudes, I am dead tired. This chapter could very easily suck or make absolutely no sense, as I stayed up super late and got up at a decent time this morning just to finish this sucker off. But honestly? By this point I don't even care so long as I get it uploaded. So, here it is! Wow, this is a lot shorter than I thought it was.
> 
> Oh man. I'm so excited for the next chapter! You guys don't even know. It'll be so cute. Creepy to you all, probably, but hey, _I'll_ be gushing. 
> 
> By the way this chapter is super weird. Like, I did everything for a REASON, as is usual, but . . . it's weird. Weird things happen. Really weird things. Weird things that will make you wrinkle your nose and go, "Uh?" Super mega ultra weird. So here's that.

"Hello, this is Sandra Banks from Sburb High School. What can I do for you?" The familiar voice of the school's secretary chirped.

John cleared his throat, eyes trained on the window, unsure of where else to look. "Uh, hi. This is John Egbert calling in. I won't be able to attend class for the rest of the week."

"Oh no!" Mrs. Banks cried, shrill voice rising to a pitch that made him cringe. "You poor thing! What's wrong? Should I call for an ambulance?"

"No, it's fine. I'm, uh, actually already in the hospital—" she gasped, but John trucked on, unwilling to hear whatever worries she wanted to voice. "—and I wanted to inform the school that I won't be up there for a while."

"Oh dear! I'm going to need a doctor's note by the time you get back, I'm afraid, but I'll make sure to email your teachers. Would you like someone to deliver your homework?"

"Yes, please. Just give it to Dave Strider; he doesn't have any after school activities and he knows what room I'm in."

"Gotcha. Get well soon!"

Ugh. Cheerful secretaries. "Er, right. I'll go do that now. Bye."

He hung up before Mrs. Banks could say anything else, dropping his phone into his lap with a sigh. The sky outside the hospital window was clear and blue, though the view was slightly obstructed by an ugly brick-and-stone building out front, and the parking lot was sprawled out, mostly-empty and gray, below.

A nurse had come in earlier, checked his bandages and IV, and then per his request, helped him sit up in the bed, his back propped up against a giant cloud of lumpy hospital pillows. Jade and Rose had left with the nurse, Rose to get food and Jade to do . . . Something. Probably use the little girl's room.

Dave, on the other hand, had taken off an hour ago with a phone call to his brother, rushing to meet at John's house. They had promised not to kill the troll inside, but what exactly they were planning to do, John didn't know.

He fiddled with his phone, thumb lazily bumping into the buttons on his cheap keypad. The Striders had yet to call or otherwise message him for an update, though he didn't really expect one until they were done doing whatever they were doing at any rate. Still, sitting there, alone in his room, he couldn't help but think it might be kind of nice to have an idea on what was going on. Could the Strider brothers really take on a troll by themselves? Surely it shouldn't take an hour; what was going on down there anyway?

Waiting around for someone to come back or call was agonizing, not to mention boring, so it didn't take very long at all for John to start playing music off of his phone and singing to it in a treacherous, off-key pitch that would have shattered the eardrums of anyone unfortunate enough to walk in on him during that long, painfully lonely twenty minutes.

However, Jade and Rose eventually came back, chattering away and with Chinese takeout, right before John received a phone call.

 

* * *

 

 

Two days later, the hospital decided it was safe to release John back out into the wild plains of the city, and the Strider brothers drove by to pick him up themselves. According to the Lalondes, John's vehicle had already been returned to his driveway, and his friends had all agreed (without talking to him) that it would be for the best if he didn't drive himself home or return to his pet troll for the first time alone.

Rose and Jade had been perfectly willing to act as chaperons, but the Striders had patiently argued that they had been the ones to "tame" John's troll, and therefore had earned the rights to formally introduce the two.

John was, of course, nervous as crap. He still wasn't entirely certain what Dirk and Dave had done to calm the troll down, and all Dave would tell him was that they "handled it".

Logically, they would have had to show dominance and forced the crazy little guy to submit, and likely with force, but he still didn't know the specifics, the story, the whole _how_. As someone who completely failed to show any sort of dominance, he was dying to know how they had managed his troll. Seriously. He wanted to know. Like, now.

Unfortunately for him, Dirk ignored him completely and Dave refused to say anything but, "We handled it."

He was a terrible friend. John had no idea why he kept the jerk around.

The Egbert residence was dark when they pulled into the driveway, despite the sun shining high in the sky above them. Black windows stared unblinkingly down at them, the silence heavy enough to drown in. It reminded him of the last time he was here, when the troll had attacked him. Somehow, that feeling of déjà vu didn't make him feel any better.

"You ready?" Dirk asked him as the three boys slid out of the car.

John, trying not to seem like a huge sissy, shrugged. "As ready as I'll ever be."

What? It was better than a "no".

Dave, because he was a good jerk-friend, clapped him reassuringly on the back and used that hand to then steer them towards the front door, where Dirk pulled the spare key out from under the rug and made quick work of unlocking it. John frowned, feeling a bit like his privacy was being compromised, but then remembered that the Striders had taken care of his little troll problem and decided to forgive them.

The front door swung open into an ominous, silent home, yawning open before them like one of those not-as-shitty-as-they-would-like-to-admit haunted houses everyone liked to go visit when they were younger.

"Ladies first," Dirk, the asshole, announced, bowing mockingly.

Dave held his head up high, fingers cinching around John's shoulder just as he started to stumble backwards, sputtering. "I taught you well, Dirk."

Dirk probably rolled his eyes, but his shades hid any movement or emotion, so John wasn't entirely sure.

Not that he would have gotten a good look anyway, as Dave then decided to shove him inside without any warning, earning a startled yelp.

Oh yeah. John was totally returning Dave to the Best Friend Factory the very first chance he got.

The Striders stepped in after him, flicking the lights on and closing the door softly behind them. John strained his ears, eyes darting around warily, but he didn't see or hear—oh, nope. There it was. It sounded like the troll was rushing down the stairs as fast as it could.

Sure enough, a familiar troll paused on the last stair, lips curled back to show the sharp fangs lining its mouth, glowing eyes narrowed and unhappy. John may or may not have cowered slightly, his torso burning in memory of those flexing claws piercing his flesh, but Dirk grabbed his shoulder and forced him to stay where he was, standing between the Striders and the troll.

Could John return both Striders, actually? Because that would be awesome. He would even suffer through Jake's wrath.

The troll tensed on the stairwell, shifting its weight from foot to foot, aggravated and restless.

"No," Dirk said, completely out of the blue. His grip tightened on John's shoulder, drawing the troll's eyes. John fought the urge to react. "No." Strider put his other hand on John's other shoulder, getting right behind him because that wasn't weird at all. "Friend. Owner. John."

The troll shifted again, but it didn't growl or move or make an otherwise threatening gesture.

Wow, if John had known he just had to spit random words at the guy, he would have had _such_ an easier time these past few days.

It started to move forward, uncertain, slow, its shoulders hunched and its body crouched low to the ground. John eyed it warily, noting, with a wrinkled nose and the vague thought that he'd have to take care of it later, that the troll was wearing the same pants it had when first delivered. Ew. The troll paused at the halfway point between the stairs and the gathered humans, glowering and baring its teeth, and for a minute he thought it was looking at _John_ —but no, its fiery eyes were focused on the guys behind him, looking between Dirk and Dave with the sort of fury that likely caused the Striders' battered appearances when they had returned to the hospital.

Dave started to move, but Dirk held out his arm and whispered a low, "Wait."

Gray limbs flexed, inching forward across the carpet, and John felt the hands at his shoulders fall away.

Startled, he chanced a glance over his shoulder to find the Striders backing away. "What are you—?"

Dirk put a finger up to his lips and gestured back to the troll, so with a gulp, John turned back to find the troll standing straight and tall in front of him, leaning into his personal space despite the fact that its eyes were trained on the brothers a few feet behind him. John's voice seemed to draw its attention, however, because its eyes were quick to snap to his face, narrowed and burning as intensely as any fire.

A clawed hand came up—and wow look at those knives—but they didn't cut or hurt John, even when he flinched back. The sharp thumb nail pressed in, brushing lightly over his shoulder, and then something leathery and smooth was coasting the inside of his shirt, which yeah, that was actually its thumb, apparently. It paused when it came to the bandages wrapped tightly around his torso, and all the warning John had was a frown before his shirt and bandage were suddenly torn and Dave was cursing somewhere far behind him.

"John, you okay there?" Dirk called.

"Uh . . . yes?" He answered dubiously; staring at the troll that was now fixated on the exposed wounds, claw tips running lightly over the red, damaged skin. "I'm really confused, though."

"Did we give him too many drugs?" Dave wondered aloud. John fought the urge to turn around and smack him.

Dirk seemed to think the best plan was simply to ignore his brother. John was inclined to agree. "I can't see from back here. What exactly is he doing to you?"

"He just kind of ripped my shirt and bandages," he frowned, "And is now touching my injuries."

"Is he hurting you?"

"No, I can barely feel it, but I am a little weirded out. Is this normal behavior for trolls?"

There was a pause. "I'm not sure."

The troll seemed perfectly continue to ignore not just Dave, but all of the chattering humans, its strange eyes focused on the scars in front of it. John, himself, was paying more attention to the Striders than to the pet (though not by very much), and he may or may not have squealed and cringed back when the troll bent closer and started _licking his wounds_.

"Woah! Woah!" John breathed, stumbling backwards. The troll glared at him, reached forward, and yanked him back by his belt loops, resuming the licking. "Ew, okay, no. That is gross. This is really gross. Someone, come help me!"

"Aw, but Egderp, it would be cruel for us to get between an apologizing pet and his master," Dave cooed.

"Dave, I am three seconds away from beating you, so help me—"

"I think John will be okay for now," Dirk cut in, sounding all calm and official.

"What?! Hey, you guys aren't about to—" Holy crap, they were actually _leaving!_ "You can't just leave me here! Guys, I'm still injured!"

"And I'm sure your new boyfriend will happily take care of you." Dave replied cheekily, pausing at the door to turn and give him a wave. "Just look at that happy couple. I'll leave you guys to it; see you at school, Egbert."

"Dave! Dirk! Come back here!" John turned to the troll, flushing and embarrassed and _ugh_ , "And would you stop _licking me?_ Because that would be great. Anytime you want to stop, really, that would be awesome."

The troll didn't stop licking him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karat decides to adopt a John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh. My. Goodness. I have literally been travelling since a few days after my last update (no, I haven't been keeping track of how long that's been. It's hard to care when you're exhausted), so I didn't have a lot of time to work on this. But I was really excited for this chapter (despite not getting to some of my favorite parts) that I just crammed as much as I could in those sittings!
> 
> An awful idea, really. I always write absolute SHIT when I rush. Also know that I actually researched Alternian slang so this is chock full of all kinds of weird phrases. I hope it makes since. Another thing: commas. Commas gave me problems for some reason. They have turned against me.
> 
> Oh well. I also had wanted to publish this on January 1st, but my clock says it is now past midnight, which means I juuuuuust missed it . . . bluh. Whatever. HAPPY NEW YEARS ANYWAY! Have a great night or day, everyone! <3

 

 

Karkat Vantas was finally satisfied.

The human was now sulking somewhere within the hive—a memory prickled at the back of Karkat's conscious, a whisper of déjà vu too weak to break through his foggy thinkpan—probably because it was unhappy with its new role as the submissive, and while that would have triggered his instincts as danger any other time, this one was weak, obviously harmless. He wasn't sure how it had managed to establish itself as the dominant over the pale, eyeless humans, but their differential positions had been enough evidence to prove that this human was their leader.

The important thing to note was that its scent was heavy within the hive, though after a few days of solitude Karkat had managed to mix his own smell into it enough to feel comfortable. The human, too, now smelled enough like him for Karkat to relax and leave it in the nutritionblock, where it had tried to flee being marked earlier.

He wasn't kidding about it being weak. It couldn't even defend its territory; he was tempted to kill it and lay claim to the hive, but the other humans—the ones that _weren’t_ likely to die during the dark season—would likely come back to avenge its death, so for now, Karkat would let the creature live under his rule.

"This is so gross!" The human whined in a different block, but Karkat ignored its strange ramblings, nugbone far too heavy to piece together its feasible protests. "It got saliva all over me! Aw man, it soaked into my clothes too. Groooooooooss!"

He shouldn't let the human reject his ruling. Even in this state of mind, he could tell it was rebelling his methods.

A warning snarl rippled through the air, bouncing off the walls and ringing in his auricular sponge clots, sound flaps twitching in response to the sudden auditory intrusion. Somewhere else in the hive, Karkat could hear the human swallow uneasily, heart fluttering in trepidation, tinging the air sharp and sour. Triumphant, he made a pleased noise to himself and wandered back to what he was doing before the humans arrived. At the end of a dingy little hall stood an open doorway, absent of any electronic light power, not that it made any difference to troll bulbs.

While the rest of the hive was now thoroughly intermixed with his scent, he had hesitated to enter this block. The eyeless humans had guarded it fiercely; they had been much more violent in their assaults the closer he had ventured to this area. But they had since retreated, and when Karkat paused in the entryway, he caught not even the faintest whiff of the eyeless ones. No, this block was heavy with the smell of the leader, the odors of breeding, feeding, and lounging all cloying thickly here, a virgin cloud that boasted ownership and alpha.

Instincts screamed that it couldn't be allowed; one must dominate, and that one would be Karkat.

Soundlessly, in case the eyeless ones came back, he slid forward into the dark block, blinking into a comfortable night vision. A large, raised nest was pushed back against one wall, a long, thick fabric bunched and rumpled on top of it, reeking of undisturbed alpha male. He growled low in his throat, pressing one thigh into the soft flatness of the nest's base before giving up all subtleties and lunging on top of it. The fluffy fabric immediately coiled and tangled around Karkat's body, practically choking him in the stink of _human_. He rolled, burying two handfuls of claws into the soft base, rubbing himself into as much of the nest as he could. Some sort of bag filled with feathers was pierced through on one of his claws, lightly dusting everything in fuzz, and accidental twitches of his fingers caused a series of holes to tear into the fluffy nest material, but after much diligent rubbing and frustrated growling, Karkat buried his face into the bed and breathed deep.

The odor of human was gone, for the most part, leaving only the smell of sopor and troll. Good.

Chirping, he crawled off the nest and shook himself off the best he could, glancing around the room with narrowed eyes and a rumble. A pile of reeking clothes stood proudly in one corner; it didn't take long for Karkat to pounce on it and scatter the contents all across the floor, firmly pressing himself into every article until the smell of leaderly human was no longer potent. He did the same thing to the ground cover in the middle of the floor and contently pushed his face into the flimsy material covering a lidded hole in the wall. Soon, with the strong odor of human cut back, Karkat could comfortably take deep breaths inside the block. All was well then, and with a happy rumble, he dropped the wall coverings and trotted lazily from the respiteblock.

The human was whining almost too quietly to hear now, but Karkat paid no mind to it; the thing had proven to be useless by this point.

When Karkat pushed his way into the nutritionblock, he found it sitting at the wooden table with its head in its pink hands, a stained and smelly shirt dawning its cleaned torso. He took a moment to approach it and shoved it out of its seat, causing it to bounce down onto the tile with a grub-like squeak and continue its wiggler noises when Karkat pinned it down by sitting on its thighs and running his hands up and down the smell-soaked shirt, hissing threateningly when the human attempted to slap his hands away. It yelped and flinched below him, but made no other moves to fight against him, so he continued touching ever bit of the stinking cloth he could. He bent his head down and sniffed twice before determining it was satisfactorily marked and went to get off the human when he noticed its pump biscuit was beating too fast and fear was rapidly bleeding into the air.

He turned his ocular orbs downward, and was honestly surprised to be met with two wide, frightened gander bulbs gazing back up. The human was, without a doubt, intimidated into submissiveness by him, and Karkat may have been a predator, but he had no plans of toying like a meowbeast with his food (and certainly no plans of eating this disgusting pile of trembling hormones). Fear could turn prey into rivals as well, and Karkat's fog-addled brain did not like the idea of this human turning into a challenger one bit.

Shifting, Karkat leaned forward slowly, instincts reminding him that moving too fast would startle the cornered animal. The human whined when Karkat's face went close to its protein chute, but he only paused long enough for the creature to fall mute before continuing. One hand came up and carefully—very carefully—papped at the soft hair on the back of its squeak pipette, the human jerking with a surprised yelp. Karkat froze, fingers still barely brushing, but when the alien did nothing more he quietly resumed papping. His face was now firmly planted in the space between the human's meal tunnel and shoulder, each inhale drawing the smell of fear and human into his oxygen bags. Slowly, he felt the creature relax in small increments against him. It never relaxed entirely, never went pliant beneath his gentle claws, but Karkat allowed it for now. Once he deemed the human calm enough, he retracted his limbs and pushed himself off the floor, leaving the squishy thing blinking and sprawled out in its subservient position on the tile.

Hunger reminded Karkat to check the meal vault, and it was only seconds after he laid his glance nuggets on the clear packaging of meat that he had the wrapping torn away and the meat dripping between his prongs as he gnawed at it.

"Oh, okay. That's really gross." The human muttered, sitting up. Karkat paid it no attention, too busy shredding raw meat with his fangs.

Blood and fluid dripped down his chin, cold, but as red as the stuff running through his veins, red as the scars on the alpha human. That caused him pause. The human still had yet to fully stand; it was staring at him from its spot on the floor, bulbs grubbishly big and pathetic, hair sticking out messily. Though a different species and an alpha in its environment, Karkat could not deny the kinship their shared blood color gifted them, nor the helpless, inferior body and thinkpan of the human simpleton. The raw meat and hive blatantly belonged to the creature, if smell and markings were anything to go by . . . and it had red wounds much like Karkat's. It likely couldn't take care of itself, it the poor fighting techniques and the lack of territory defenses was anything to go by. Not to mention the group that came and went and the absence of a lusus . . .

Yes, that would be alright. Karkat would adopt this misfortunate moron into his own herd for care. The poor idiot needed it rather desperately.

Karkat ripped a palm-sized chunk of meat away with his claws, squirting thin streams of red down his hand and on to the floor below. The human watched, still with those confused wiggler-orbs, as he lumbered closer and extended the raw meat towards it in offering.

The human looked between the offered meat and Karkat and blinked, silent and unmoving.

This stupid, panless _fool_. It did not even realize it was being gifted food. Karkat wasn't sure how it had survived up to this point (and so healthy as well), but it was probably dumb luck. Fortunately for the human, Karkat was now here to help.

He walked forward, slowly, so as to not startle the hapless beast, the dribbling meat still extended towards it. When he finally came to a halt with his hand directly under its nose and it only continued to stare blankly, he frowned and nudged the food up against the other's protein chute opening. For whatever reason, the moronic thing jerked back, one fragile hand coming up to touch its blood-kissed noise trap. It did not appear happy. The dummy likely didn't understand that the substance was being freely given, and that Karkat was not a threat. Oh well, it wasn't taking the meat in any case, and Karkat wasn't nice enough to offer again.

Quickly, he shoved the last bits into the sharp points of his fangs and began to rip into the meal once more, not caring for the blood on his hands or face, and certainly paying no mind to the mess all over the floor. Such thoughts were best made under a clearer pan, one that Karkat hadn't had in days.

He burped once, finished, and found the mentally challenged human still staring up at him from the block's floor, looking both disgusted and terrified. The blood around its ignorance tunnel was faded, and a long, smeared streak of red had appeared on one of its forearms, proof that it had wiped the fluid off on its arm. Its pulse was spiking again, so Karkat reached over, grabbed a handful of hair, and yanked its head against his digestive tract, carding careful claws through the soft locks as gently as he could. It made a strange noise, high and warbling, but it didn't sound threatening and even if it did, the human had already established itself as the submissive, so he wasn't worried.

Karkat shooshed him, and after a good few minutes it finally began to calm down again, speaking its strange alien tongue in such a whine that made he unable to help the irritable growl that slipped out. The effect was instantaneous; it immediately went silent, though its bloodpusher began to beat erratically, and it took many a stroke and apologetic click before it relaxed again and began mumbling gibberish. This time the whine was absent in its voice, so Karkat allowed its strange phrases and words to fill the space between them for the few seconds right before he released its fur and walked around it to the nutritionblock exit.

The human, as if feeling the connection Karkat had been attempting to forge with it, followed, sputtering all sorts of odd noises and creating foreign, aggravating gestures with its whole body. Karkat didn't do too much though until it stopped him in the long, narrow block on the higher floor, and then a warm hand was pushing at his shoulder, trying to stop his progress, and no. Karkat would _not_ allow this creature to dominate him.

He shoved it into the opposite wall, snarling and baring teeth, and it cowered and began making some sort of noise over and over again. It wasn't a rebellious or angry sound in the least, but soft insistence, blue orbs locked with his with that same persistence despite the fumes of fear fanning out into the block. Karkat narrowed his lookstubs, hands pinning the fool's shoulders against the wall, but he paused long enough to concentrate on the string of vocals leaving the beast's mouth. "Shower. Shower. Bath."

Yeah, he had no idea what this obtuse mammal was trying to communicate.


End file.
